


if my heart stops beating (we'll bleed the same way)

by Peasantaries



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eggsy is a Little Shit, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, No Underage Sex, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Scenting, Shameless Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8363227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peasantaries/pseuds/Peasantaries
Summary: Eggsy Unwin is a mystery, a genius, a prodigy, a celebrity, but more than any of these, more than anything: he's a nuisance. He's loud and snarky and insolent and crude; he sits at the back of the class with his feet up, grinning wide, answers every question with a witty remark or just another goddamn question, and he's driving Harry insane.[WILL BE COMPLETED]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back. Back again. 
> 
> This fic is basically sinning btw. Title from The 1975, _"Pressure" ___
> 
> Thanks Kathleen, you the bomb!

"Alright, Mr. Hart," Eggsy breezes in, whistling cheerily with a strut in each step.

Harry clenches his jaw, purposefully not turning away from the whiteboard. He already knows who it is.

"Yes, Mr. Unwin, if you would take a seat along with the rest of the class." Harry grits out.

Said class are already in their seats, because said class started _half an hour ago._

Eggsy pours himself into the desk; his long limbs carelessly taking up space, elbows spilling and thighs splaying apart.

Harry pushes his glasses up the brigde of his nose. "Can you give me a reason for you late-coming, Mr Unwin?"

Eggsy rolls his head back, seems to think about it for a minute. "No. No, not really, sir." He juts his bottom lip out in sadness.

Harry tries not to grit his teeth. "See me after class, Eggsy."

Of course, Harry doesn't see Eggsy after class.

He sees him constantly _throughout_ the class, strumming his fingers in disinterest, tapping his feet and chewing on his pen, interjecting at points with his own opinion and interrupting Harry's flow of speech.

Most days, the only thing that gets Harry through is the fantasy of bending Eggsy Unwin over the table and slapping his rear end until the skin is red-raw, swollen and over-sensitive, and Eggsy's voice is hoarse with crying.

That thought gives him strange stirrings of excitement in his belly, and sometimes, the thrill of it is such an instant hit that Harry has to do it several times a day.

It's quite an addiction.

Harry was aware, beforehand, that in becoming a high school English teacher, he would have to tolerate intolerable children. And he prides himself in doing so.

He prides himself for every lost cause that walks into his classroom and walks back out at the end of the year with a pass, he prides himself for tolerating the taunts and the teasing, the paper wads and the snickers, the barely legible essays and the misuse of the apostrophe every. single. _time._

The thing that Harry does not, however, pride himself in, is his inability to tolerate Eggsy.

Eggsy Unwin is a mystery, a genius, a prodigy, a celebrity, but more than any of these, more than anything: he's a nuisance.

He's loud and snarky and insolent and crude. He sits at the back of the class with his feet up, grinning wide, answers every question with a witty remark or just another goddamn question, and he's driving Harry _insane_.

"You need a holiday." Antonia says, smiling.

"I need a new job." Harry rubs at his forehead, the wine glass in his hand perched on his knee.

Antonia laughs, coming to sit beside him on the sofa.

"I mean, it's not as if I've never dealt with problem students before." He carries on. "Because you know as well as I do that I've had my fair share. But something about the boy is _infuriating."_ Harry clenches his jaw.

Antonia just smiles. "Maybe he has a crush on you."

"Pardon?" Harry blinks.

"C'mon." She starts, cajoling. "It's not as if you haven't noticed that he's always bragging, always showing off. He's like a little boy pulling pig-tails, desperate for your attention."

Harry frowns. "Antonia, you haven't met Eggsy Unwin. He's _always_ like that."

She shrugs. "I'm just saying. Maybe he's always like that around you."

"Please can we not undermine the problem while simultaneously turning into twelve year old girls?" Harry asks politely.

"What _is_ the problem, Harry?" Antonia's eyes soften fondly.

"This conversation is the problem." He mutters, glancing away.

"Harry." She coos, grinning. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is I can barely–” he cuts himself off, but Antonia is already frowning, leaning away.

"Do you–”

"No." He snaps, voice hard. "No, I just meant–”

"Because I was only joking when I said he had a crush on you–”

"Antonia, I don't have feelings for Eggsy." Harry hisses, heart pounding in sickening nausea. "I am not attracted to him; I am not anything towards the boy. Yes I can barely tolerate his presence, but sometimes, on some basic chemical level, people rub off on you the wrong way. It can't be helped, it's natural, it's biology."

"You don't need to explain." She placates. "I'm sorry I assumed."

"It's alright." He swallows some wine down, and sighs. "I'm just rather highly-strung at the moment."

"I see." She raises her eyebrows, a playful smirk settling over her features. "In that case." Antonia leans forward, sliding a hand up his thigh.

Harry feels heat coil in his gut, anticipatory. He suppresses the growl in his throat and lifts off the couch fluidly, pushing her down into the cushions.

"Oh!" Antonia laughs, surprised. "I didn't think that would work."

Truthfully, Harry didn't either.

They haven't been exactly active lately, in fact, they haven't been intimate for a while. Their jobs have kept them busy, life has gotten in the way, and it's easy to forget.

It's not as if they have their heats either, because Antonia is a beta, and so is Harry.

It's not actually a false stereotype that betas have weaker libidos. And they've been married for almost six years now, it's to be expected. There isn't any urgency to have a family; they both agreed they didn't want children. Although sometimes, maybe Harry's chest aches when he watches a man swing his little girl into his arms, if it's what Antonia wants, Harry can accept it.

They've been together since university. It's comfortable, easy, _familiar_. They know each other, they're each other's best friends more than anything else.

Sometimes, things can stagnate.

For some reason, though, Harry's been feeling rather frustrated as of late.

It's nothing to do with the fact that he hasn't had sex in over a year, because they've gone for longer.

But Harry worries if it might be his beta nature.

The issue of presenting was never much of an issue at all; most of the worlds population are betas, with a rare few alphas and omegas passing among them. The phenomenon of mates and all other such nonsense has more or less died out. It's more of an issue if someone _does_ present at the age of eighteen, and only because of how complicated the whole business is. 

It's a painful experience, Harry is led to believe. Being thrown into a heat for an omega, a rut for an alpha. There are tales of people presenting later in life, but they're even rarer than the ones of people presenting. Eighteen is the height of fertility, virility.

Harry, in all honesty, was glad when his eighteenth came and passed with little fanfare.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't still have animal instincts.

It doesn't mean he isn't still affected by his biology: that a person's scent doesn't determine as much of his reaction to them as their character. That he doesn't feels the need to growl, to push, to _bite._

Harry's never reacted to anyone as strongly as he has to Eggsy, though.

From the first meeting, Harry was struck with this _awareness_ of him, a pricking itch underneath his skin.

He tries to tell himself it's Unwin's behaviour, his crass language and arrogant attitude, but the fact remains - Mr. Unwin alters some basic, biological part of Harry's brain, for reasons unbeknownst to him.

Eggsy rocks on the backs of his heels, eyes wide and clear. He even has hands clasped behind his back. He's the poster boy for innocence.

Harry sighs. It's been a long day, he wants this encounter to last as little as possible. 

"Eggsy, I don't imagine you're under the impression I have a lot of time." He begins, unimpressed. "So I don't understand why you think I have all the time in the world for you."

Eggsy's eyebrow twitches, but otherwise he remains impassive.

"You show up late to my classes, every morning without fail, despite the fact that you've been given countless warnings." Harry states. "And other than it affecting your own life, this affects mine. On a daily basis. I'm the one who is interrupted when you walk in. I'm the one who issues the warning to your parents, who scrapes together evidence for you at board meetings as to why you shouldn't simply be expelled, who constantly puts up with your behaviour, your excuses, and your lack of regard for anyone and anything that does not directly pertain to you. But not anymore. From here on out, I will not accept it. Have I made myself clear?"

Eggsy takes a deep, long breath, his chest inflating slowly.

"Nope." He exhales, pressing his mouth together in a little apologetic smile. "That was a lot of big words, Mr. Hart. 'Fraid you'll have to repeat it."

"You cheeky little–” Harry's nostrils flare, but he bites back the words, clenching his jaw quickly.

Eggsy's mouth is wobbling, as if trying to contain a smile.

"If you come in late tomorrow morning, I'll drag you back out." Harry manages.

"Like the sound 'a that." Eggsy's eyes glint, and Harry is so struck with his insolence, the fact he simply won't listen, that he pounds a fist on the table.

"Eggsy Unwin!" He shouts.

Eggsy jumps in surprise, grin breaking free as he covers his mouth with both hands snickering.

"You have no consideration for anyone but yourself!" Harry bursts out with, everything suddenly spilling free. "You have no understanding of the meaning of authority, you can't seem to grasp the simple fact that you need to have some _semblance_ of respect for me! You seem to enjoy testing my every limit - my every nerve!" Harry stands, hands clenched, fury boiling his blood, but Eggsy doesn't move, doesn't react. He's still laughing.

Harry suddenly wishes, with every fibre of his being, that there was some way to affect Eggsy in the same way Eggsy affects him; there was some way to inject him with the same anger and frustration and pure _powerlessness_ that Harry feels pulsating through his veins.

He growls, the sound vibrating from his chest in helpless, wounded rage.

Abruptly, Eggsy's face goes white, his whole body stiffening completely.

Harry freezes, realising what he's doing.

“Eggsy–” Harry begins, voice rough.

“I gotta go.” Eggsy says, and flees.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this update is so overdue and I literally have nothing to say other than I'm a horrible terrible person and will worker harder

Harry doesn't see Eggsy again for the rest of the week.

He busies himself with paperwork and pretends it doesn't gnaw in his gut, as if he hasn't ate, despite the fact he's nowhere near hungry.

Harry is only walking down the hallway when it happens. That's all he's doing. He's just going into the storeroom to collect his printed-out class exercises, and maybe make himself a cup of coffee to stall the oncoming headache that he's felt for a few days now, like the crackling of a storm before lightening, when the scent hits.

Harry finds himself freezing, the paper he'd been holding in his hands slipping though lifeless fingers and scattering across the floor. 

Harry can barely explain it, barely pinpoint _where_ exactly the scent hits him. It feels as if it's affecting every part of his whole body and not only his nostrils. His palms sweat, his cheeks flush. His blood heats inside him, it's hot and alive, and Harry has never been more aware of it in that moment. He's never before felt every inch of his skin, stretched over his bones, until now.

It's not a scent: it's not fruit or bread, cheese or food, any kind of perfume, it's not - it's not a  _smell_ , even though Harry doesn't know what else to call it. It ferments the air, as if it's changing the atmosphere, the oxygen. As if he's entered space and is now floating in zero gravity while both his feet planted on the floor.

And then his feet are moving, knowing instinctively where to go. 

Harry rounds the corner where there's noise, movement. There's a commotion, but Harry pushes past people, until he's stopped in his tracks.

"Try it,  _bitch!"_ Eggsy has another pupil pressed to the wall with an arm on his throat, spitting in his face. "Just try it! Touch me again, I'll do more than pin you against a fuckin' wall!"

It's Eggsy. Eggsy is the smell. 

"What's going on here?" Harry starts, his rough voice even startling himself.

The sudden presence of a teacher parts the sea of students, and they scurry off.

Eggsy whips around, eyes widening as if he's seeing a ghost, stumbling back and staggering.

Harry frowns at his reaction and steps closer, until the other student straightens up. 

"I'm sorry sir, I really didn't mean it -" the boy babbles.

"Looked like it." Eggsy spits, lip curled in a sneer. 

"Can someone explain what's going on, before I'm forced to take you both to the principal?" Harry asks, hard.

Eggsy doesn't say anything, staring down at the floor, feet turned inward. He won't meet Harry's eyes,

"He just - he smelled so good and I only presented last week and I've not been taught how to control -"

"Presented?" Harry begins, lightly.

"Yeah, I'm an Alpha." The boy says, pleading. "I only came back to school cause I thought the rut was over, but I didn't think there was an Omega -"

"Yeah, well you shouldn't fuckin' _grab_  someone-" Eggsy hisses, eyes suddenly blazing. 

The boy covers his face, ashamed. "I didn't mean to –”

"Alright, I think you can go." Harry states. "Take this as a  _severe_  warning, and remember your pills."

The boy swallows, but his feet stay rooted to the floor.

"I can't - I can't." He starts. "I can't go."

"Do I need to fuckin' _knock you out?"_ Eggsy cries.

Harry turns his full attention to the boy. He's young, fresh-faced and inexperienced. His eyes flit from Harry back to Eggsy, and his shame is slowly being replaced by slack hunger. 

Harry bends, slightly, and puts his face level with the boy's, blocking his view. Eyes snap back to his, as if the boy is only just now waking up.

"Go." Harry states, lowering his voice. The boy doesn't move, so Harry growls, a light, effortless thing, and then he's off.

Eggsy is still looking down at the floor. 

Harry goes to put a hand on his shoulder, but Eggsy quickly side-steps him.

"Eggsy." Harry begins, and can't contain the sting found in his voice. "I won't hurt you."

Eggsy still doesn't look at him. 

"I'm a beta." He tries, but still Eggsy is silent.

"Come on, I've not got a class for another hour." Harry says, and starts toward his room. Eggsy follows.

Once they're inside, though, Eggsy flops into one of the desks, putting his head in his folded arms and closing his eyes. Harry crouches beside the desk with the sudden and irrational desire to stroke fingers through Eggsy's hair, but he resists for putting a hand on the back of the chair. 

"Eggsy." Harry begins. "I hope this isn't why you've been missing class. Surely you know there's help within the school for situations like this."

Eggsy scoffs. "Some nurse telling me how not to get pregnant and just how fuckin' much I'm gonna want  _bent over_  during a certain time of the month ain't exactly helpful."

Harry swallows, and ignores all of that in favour of saying, "Eggsy, you're only seventeen. You won't have presented yet."

"It's some - mini heat or something." Eggsy starts. "Some bullshit thing the doctors came up with for ' _no fuckin' clue_ '."

"So you've been to a doctor." Harry starts, relieved.

Eggsy's silence is telling.

"You  _have_  been to a doctor." Harry starts.

"Internet's just as good, and-" 

"Eggsy." Harry starts, voice rough. "You need  _medical attention_ , this isn't supposed to be happening -"

"It's just some stupid mini heat-"

"You don't _know_  that!" Harry's voice raises, his temper beginning to unravel as worry seeps into his voice. "At the very least, Eggsy, a proper heat needs proper care, proper medication and the proper conditions, as well as a _partner_ to go through it, a doctor to oversee everything, a mini heat could be the same!" He shouts. "If you're too young for a partner to help you through this, you'll need to be admitted into hospital, I'll call your parents -"

"No, no, I can't go home." Eggsy's head whips up, and his cheeks are red, eyes glassy. "They can't know I'm an Omega, they'll smell it-"

"Eggsy." Harry starts, and his voice is very calm, very low. "Do you mean to tell me you've not been home in three days?"

Eggsy is, once again, silent.

Harry tries very hard to breathe normally. "Can I ask, then, where you've been?"

Eggsy just stares, before his face crumples in crying. 

"Oh, Eggsy." Harry says, impossibly soft, and he can no longer resist taking Eggsy into his arms.

"Everything's _shit_." Eggsy mutters, and then hands grip into Harry's shoulders, wrapping arms around Harry's neck and pressing his face into the side of Harry's neck.

Harry places a hand on the back of Eggsy's head, humming quietly. "Shh, shh." He hushes, and Eggsy sniffles, shuffling closer. "You're alright Eggsy. You're alright."

 

*

Antonia's face is a picture of shock as Eggsy shuffles into the living room, and Harry is quick to take her into the kitchen. 

"It's just for the night." He starts, before she can say anything, desperation bleeding into his tone. "He's only seventeen, Antonia, he shouldn't have presented for at least another few months, he's very scared and he can't go home, I'm taking him to the hospital tomorrow, and it's  _one_  night, in the guest room."

Harry can't exactly say why he feels the sudden and inexplicable need to explain himself, but he finds the words are coming anyway.

Antonia's expression clears. "Alright."

Harry blinks. "Alright?" He asks. 

"It's a lot for one student." She begins, eyebrows raised. "But it's okay. I understand it."

Harry is even more confused. "You understand?"

"I mean you could have taken him to social services, if he can't go home. You could let them take care of him." She raises an eyebrow.

Harry's hands ball at his sides, a spike of hot, irrational anger rushing through him. "Antonia, that's utterly _heartless_. _"_ He hisses. "He's going through a  _heat,_  I can't just throw him out into the cold."

"Why?" She blinks, head tilted.

Harry stares. _"Why?"_ He repeats.

Antonia nods, and Harry abruptly realises that she's scrutinising him. _Testing_ him. "Why can't you leave him to the social services?" She repeats.

Harry's mouth works for a moment, dumbfounded. "I." He starts, but can't finish. Some part of him already knows, and Antonia sees that.

She nods. "There's your answer."

Harry is dumbstruck. "What answer?"

"Why you can't do it." She states. "Because you can't let other people be around him, let other people look after him. Not when you can."

"It's not like that-" Harry starts, desperate.

"Harry, it's okay." Antonia starts, suddenly reaching forward and taking his hand. "It's aright, I  _understand._ Your first thought was to bring him here. Bring him home. You _know_ why."

Harry feels frozen on the spot, petrified. Her eyes are wide and clear, looking up at him. "I don't -"

"He's your mate, darling." She murmurs. 

Harry starts shaking his head. "No, it's not-"

"Harry." Antonia begins, voice soft. "We're still young, we're only in our early thirties. And were married so young too, we barely knew what we were doing. But you've been so different lately, I've seen it. You're not a beta, honey."

Harry shakes his head. "I-"

"It's alright." She smiles, soft, as if she's known this all along. "You know it too."

"Antonia." Harry can only say.

"We'll talk about it in the morning." She says, and lets go of his hand before making her way out. She looks back for a moment, a soft expression on her face, before she nods and heads upstairs.

Harry walks into the living room, half expecting Eggsy to have overheard, to be standing there with his eyebrows raised, a cocky stance, smirk in place.

Instead he finds Eggsy passed out on the couch, legs curled up, hands pressed up to his chest and open mouth pressed into the cushion. 

Harry feels something soften inside of him, but refuses to think about it. They'll talk tomorrow, Antonia and him.

Harry scoops Eggsy into his arms and pads softly to the guest room. He's about to set Eggsy down gently until he feels a tug to his jumper. Eggsy makes a wordless noise of protest and snuggles closer to Harry.

Harry huffs a soft laugh, and eventually manages to detach Eggsy's weak, exhausted grip. He pulls the covers over Eggsy's lax, trusting body, strokes his hair for a second and then leaves him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why hello there, long time no see. In all honesty, I'm trying to update all my fics and finish them fairly soon, so stay tuned!

Eggsy is scuffing his shoes, legs restless as he kicks his feet against the back of the chair.

"Eggsy." Harry murmurs, keeping his voice soft. "It's alright to be nervous–”

"I ain’t nervous." Eggsy hisses. "Nah, some doc is just gonna shove a _stethoscope_ up my ass–”

Harry tightens his jaw, flitting his eyes to the side. "Eggsy, really." He starts, gritting his teeth as a young mother gives them a wide-eyed stare. "This is a public waiting room."

Eggsy huffs, but his eyes flit to Harry's for a moment, a grin creeping across his face. Harry feels his own features soften in an answering tug of his lips, unwillingly.

"Eggsy Unwin."

Harry and Eggsy jump up at the same time, and Eggsy's face heats, which is just such a peculiar thing to happen to Eggsy's face that it gives Harry pause, before Eggsy is glancing down, swallowing hard.

"Uh." He starts. "Can I - go in myself?"

Harry feels his own face heat, hot colour crawling all the way up his throat. "Of course." He states, sitting back down quickly. He feels suddenly, very foolish.

Eggsy hesitates for a moment. "I." He starts. "It's not–”

"Eggsy Unwin." The nurse holding the door open repeats, eyes scanning the room.

Eggsy gives him one last glance before hopping up and toward the nurse.

Harry clears his throat, crosses his arms, and sits back to wait.

And wait.

And _wait._

He tries not to obviously watch the clock ticking, but has it really ever ticked so _slowly_ before? Surely time is being affected here, surely everything is moving sluggishly. It's the only explanation, because every second that passes feels as if it takes longer to pass than the last.

But then, finally, Eggsy is shuffling out into the waiting room, and Harry stands, the gnawing in this gut that had begun sometime after the door closed easing away instantly.

Until Eggsy opens his mouth. "Uh, they want to take me to hospital."

Harry freezes.

Eggsy rolls his eyes, huffing. "Chill. It's just for one night. They need to put me on suppressants, because I'm not fully developed yet for this to be happening or whatever." Eggsy grimaces, one side of his face squinting up. "I dunno. But they called my parents, they're picking me up." He offers a tired smile. "Thanks for everything, Mr. Hart."

Harry feels frozen. He just stares, and it's a long moment before he can swallow around the sudden pressure in his throat. "I - will your parents be alright?" He raises his eyebrows meaningfully. "With that?"

Eggsy shrugs, sighing as if he's given up. "Just have to be, won't they." He grins, that familiar spark in his eyes, but it's muted, faded.

Harry nods. "Okay." He swallows.

Eggsy is quiet. "I better go." He starts. "They're probably outside."

Harry nods again, and tries on a smile. It's tight, strained. "Of course."

"See you in school." He says, and then he shoulders his backpack and shuffles around Harry. Harry watches him go until he turns around, glancing down before looking back up quickly.

"And thanks again." Eggsy says, voice rough. "Really."

"Just be on _time."_ Harry states, expression deadpan and flat, and Eggsy laughs.

And then he's disappearing around the corner.

Harry sees him from the window, watches a woman rush out the car and envelop him in her arms, pull back to hold his face and speak quietly.

Eggsy doesn't look at her, but he's nodding.

The tight, winding cramp in his gut abruptly eases again, but Harry doesn't want to acknowledge the weight in his chest, pressing down on his lungs and making it difficult to breathe.

 

*

He doesn't see Eggsy for another week.

Although Harry wants to visit the hospital, wants to bring fruit and balloons and soft toys and everything, _anything_  that might cheer Eggsy up, that might extract a soft smile or huffed laughter, a roll of his eyes and a familiar cheeky quip, he manages to refrain himself.

Antonia is waiting when he comes back from the doctors.

Harry freezes at the door, hand stilling where he had been unwrapping his scarf, and she chuckles lightly.

"You're not in trouble." She starts, smiling.

Harry doesn't say anything.

"C'mon, you don't have to be like that." She says. "Come and sit."

Harry does, sitting with her on the couch as she angles her body toward him.

"Look–” Harry starts, but she holds up a hand.

"I love you, Harry." She says. "But I don't think we've been in love for a while."

Harry glances down, throat stinging.

"You know I'm right." She jostles. "I usually am."

Harry coughs out a surprised laugh. "Well." He says, and lifts his eyes to meet hers. She’s smiling.

"Antonia." Harry reaches out and takes her hand, eyes burning.

"None of that." She shakes her head. "No, no."

"But–” he starts.

"I always kind of knew." She says, head tilting. "You know? Your scent would change, whenever you felt strongly about something. I never actually pieced it together until now."

Harry shakes his head. "Antonia, I'm _not_ an Alpha–”

"Harry." Antonia clucks her tongue, scolding, but Harry carries on.

"I've never presented, my whole family are beta's."

"Yet." She states.

Harry frowns.

"You haven't presented yet." She tells him.

"Antonia, people present when they're _eighteen_ –”

"And some people don't." She says lightly. "Some people do later in life, and some people not at all."

He huffs. "I think I'll be in the _'not at all'_ category."

"Harry." She starts gently. "I saw it, when you brought him home. You could barely stand to leave his side. And even know, you want to go to him, don't you?"

Harry's face heats as if he's a child. "I–”, he starts, stuttering. "It's not–”

"Hey." Antonia states, voice hard. "I think we’re past all that by now, don't you?"

Harry looks down, averts his gaze.

"I want you to be _happy."_ Antonia says, and Harry glances up to her.

"Don't you want me to be happy?" She asks, and Harry frowns.

"Of course." He says, because it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Antonia smiles, soft and impish. "You have a _mate_. And maybe it's only your body pushing you right now, but can't you feel him? Isn't that _wonderful?"_ She's grinning as if its her that's found her mate, and Harry feels his jaw ache with burning tears.

"Antonia." He rasps.

"I'm happy if you're happy, Harry." She says. "And I want you to be happy. If it were me, wouldn't you tell me to get gone?"

Harry chuckles, shaking his head, and then he's lowering his gaze. "It's just - he's so _young_ , Antonia–”

"Ah, what's a little age difference?" She huffs, lifting a shoulder. "If two people are meant to be together, then they should be together."

Harry feels his face heat at those words, just _imagining_  being with Eggsy, and he finds himself shaking his head.

"But he's not even eighteen, and I'm past thirty–”

"And when he's one hundred, you'll be one hundred and sixteen, and you'll both be old farts." She states plainly, and Harry finds himself laughing, shaking his head again despite himself.

"I'm going to stay with mum for a bit." Antonia says, and Harry's head is whipping up.

"Just until we sort out what we want to do." She holds up two hands. "It's not permanent, and the space might do us both a bit of good."

Harry doesn't know what to say. He's lived with Antonia for what seems all his life, and although it's routine, it's familiar, like living with a sister and not necessarily a wife, his stomach still clenches at the thought of being alone.

"You'll be wanting time to yourself, with Eggsy, and I don't want to intrude." She explains, but Harry is shaking his head harshly.

"How can be so - so _calm_ , so understanding–”

"I think I've known for a long time, Harry." Antonia tells him. "Ever since you started talking about him."

Harry grits his teeth. "But I'm not - _kicking you out_ , all because–”

"Kicking me out?" Antonia states, mildly offended. "I don't think you could if you tried."

Harry laughs, but he tries not to, to quell his grin and clench his jaw. "This isn't funny, Antonia–”

"Oh, I'm not joking." She tells him, and Harry huffs a chuckle.

"I'm just saying." She starts again. "We can decide what we want to do about the house afterwards. For now, why don't we just try this?"

Harry swallows. He imagines giving up the house, the house he's spent years living in, breathing and sleeping and eating inside.

Antonia watches him. "I wouldn't mind, you know. If you wanted to take the house."

"I couldn't ask that–” Harry starts instantly.

"You know how long I've been asking to move out." Antonia says, and Harry smiles, because she has. With both their salaries they could afford someone bigger, more expensive, but Harry has always liked this house.

"Think about it." She says, gaze steady and serious.

And Harry nods.

 

*

As soon as Eggsy is back, Harry knows instantly.

His head lifts up, awareness snapping his gaze to the door, a sudden, stifling sensation of _knowing_ that prickles along his skin, only to see Eggsy shuffle in quietly, a soft head tip and a _'sorry'_ as he slides into a seat.

Only it's not his usual seat.

It's one further up, right at the back.

If it wasn't for the fact that Eggsy sits at the front of _every class_ , taking up as much space and attention as possible, the murmured apology would have been enough for Harry to know something wasn't right.

"Nice of you to join us." Harry states deeply, and there are a few chuckles throughout the room.

Eggsy, however, simply puts his head down.

Harry waits for the quip: for the sarcastic comment or the witty comeback, but it never comes.

Eggsy just pulls out his books, a flush creeping across his sharp cheekbones.

Harry turns back to board, but he doesn't lose focus or sight of Eggsy throughout the whole of the class.

Eggsy is quiet, and at first Harry thinks he's simply being demure, until he notices something.

Eggsy's face hasn't lost it's redness since coming in. It isn't simple embarrassment, he's truly sweating; wiping a hand across his brow every few seconds.

And he's restless, as restless as he was in the doctors office, only this time, he's pressing his thighs together and squirming in his seat.

Harry almost doesn't realise at first. It almost slips his mind, passes his awareness. It's only until halfway through class that a breeze starts bringing the scent in.

Harry thinks it's coming from outside, a fresh, dewy smell in the springtime heat, only it gets stronger, growing and growing until it's clouding the room, permeating around the class and making Harry falter, breathe slightly heavier, lean against the chalkboard as he writes and steady himself.

He glances around, but none of the students seem affected. They're simply writing away, turning to one another in whispered conversations, nodding to one another's papers and doing their work.

Harry looks at Eggsy.

Eggsy isn't doing any work. He isn't doing anything.

He's simply straight ahead, right at Harry, gaze unfocused and mouth slightly parted, a flush riding high on his cheeks.

It clicks.

Eggsy is presenting. He's going into heat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to hell, and I'm taking you all with me. 
> 
> On another note, apologies for the length of time this update took, but this is indeed the long-awaited smut chapter that I essentially wrote this fic around, until I added just a *pinch* of plot and spilled it everywhere.
> 
> In all honesty, I don't know what this fic was meant to be, but I have nobody to blame for that but myself.

As soon as Harry realises, everything changes.

The scent, the atmosphere, the temperate of the room – _everything._  

Harry has been trained in what to do if a student goes into heat. It’s only happened a couple of times, and each and every time, he’s followed the same procedure. 

Calmly evacuate the class, make sure the student isn’t in any pain, call the nurse and have the student escorted from the building. 

Simple, easy. 

It’s usually obvious when someone is presenting. They’ll be flushed, trembling, _clearly ill,_ and Harry will take one look at them and know what’s happening. 

Sudden bouts of sweating don’t just happen. Neither do flushed faces or quickened breath, people doubled-over with arms around their stomach. 

Eggsy, however.

Eggsy is simply staring at Harry, mouth slightly parted, and –

It takes a while for Harry to catch on. 

But Eggsy’s hand is underneath his desk, the muscles of his arm tensed, and he’s –

He’s touching himself.

He’s touching himself, in this classroom, in front of all his classmates.

He might only be pressing a hand into his crotch and rubbing, but Harry can see, very clearly, that he’s _touching himself._  

Something hot and molten seeps into Harry’s insides, fills his lungs, his chest, and is not helped by the increasing incense of Eggsy presenting, of him _going into heat._

Harry has never been able to smell an Omega present before. 

He’s heard tales from other Alphas that it’s something indescribable, all-consuming. He’s seen what it can do to people, turn them frenzied and crazed, wild and animalistic.

But he’s never actually been able to appreciate it, to _understand_ it.

Harry feels his breathing grow laboured, and grits his teeth as he leans on the desk.

Eggsy’s scent feels as if it’s suffusing the room, clouding the air. It's as if it's coating the back of Harry’s throat, the roof of his mouth, like he can _taste_ it.

“Class dismissed.” Harry manages to get out, a croaky exhale.

Nobody reacts.

People blink, unmoving.

“Class dismissed!” He growls louder, raising his voice.

They don’t need to be told twice.

Students throw their books into their backpacks, scurrying towards the door for escape. 

All but one.

Eggsy is blinking up at him, a beautiful hint of pinkness to his cheeks.

Harry stares as Eggsy glances around sluggishly, his gaze focusing as if he’s only just now coming to awareness.

“Huh?” His mouth falls open as he glances around the room, dumbfounded.

Harry’s eyes bore into Eggsy’s, and Eggsy swallows, the length of his throat undulating.

“The class is dismissed, Eggsy.” Harry states again.

Eggsy blinks again. “Oh.” He says, and then he pulls his bag from the floor onto his desk and starts packing.

He stands awkwardly, holding his rucksack in front of him, and nods.

“Well.” He says, tips his head down as if in farewell, and then starts toward the door.

Walking backwards.

“Eggsy.” Harry stalls him, and Eggsy freezes.

“You’re going into heat.” Harry tells him, and Eggsy whips around, the flush darkening across his face. “That’s why I’ve dismissed the class.”

“Wh – you — no I’m not!” Eggsy shouts, but his grip on his backpack tightens.

Harry simply raises an eyebrow. “So you were touching yourself for no reason then?”

Eggsy stiffens all over, and then he’s suddenly spluttering, cheeks the darkest Harry has ever seen them. “I – I wasn’t – I didn’t –”

“Eggsy.” Harry says, soft and gentle, like coaxing a lamb from its den. “Remove the bag.”

Eggsy takes a step backward, nearly crashing into the desk. “I – Mr. Hart –”

Harry waits, because he thinks to move any closer would be a bad decision. “It’s alright.” He tries, keeping his voice soft.

Eggsy’s eyes are wild as they move around the room, clearly looking for some kind of escape as his feet inch closer and closer to the door. “I don’t – I’m really not –”

“I can get the nurse,” Harry begins, although the words are bitter ash in his mouth for some reason, the idea of other people seeing Eggsy in this state, _tending_ to him like this. “They’ll –”

“Please don’t, don’t –” Eggsy stumbles forward as Harry reaches for the phone on the desk.

Harry holds up both hands, and Eggsy stops in his tracks, features smoothing out in relief.

“I won’t call them.” Harry assures, and Eggsy sags. “If you remove the bag.” He carries on.

Eggsy blinks, and then he’s tensing up again, his back going rigid. “Mr. Hart –”

“Eggsy.” Harry begins, in a voice he’s never heard himself speak in before. “Remove it.”

The command is clear.

Eggsy is shame-faced and entirely unwilling, but he bows his neck, hiding his flushed cheeks, and drops the bag to the floor.

Harry stares.

Through the material of his trousers, his tight slacks, the distinctive outline of his erection is unmistakeable.

The thick ridge bulges from his pants, and Harry thinks he can even see the head, protruding upwards and tenting his slacks.

It looks painful. It looks almost —  _agonising._

Harry has never seen such an obvious hard-on from _nothing_. In videos, maybe, when he guilty discovered he liked both men and woman and experimented a little on the internet, but in those videos the men were on the brink, after hours of touching.

Eggsy is standing, head low, but Harry can see that his thighs are trembling where his knees are forcefully spaced apart, hands fisted at his sides and knuckles white, as if to keep them there.

“You’re hurting, Eggsy.” Harry murmurs, and stands, but Eggsy shakes his head quick, holds a out hand.

“Don’t – please don’t come any closer.” He croaks, shaking. “I can’t –”

“The nurses will help, I don’t want you in _pain_ –” Harry hisses.

Eggsy just shakes his head again. “They can’t help. They can’t do anything. It’s already started, I know it has.” Eggsy swallows, staring down at the floor. “I turned eighteen last week, I thought when I didn’t go into heat it was fine, but.”

Harry is silent.

“It’s too late.” Eggsy murmurs, but he’s gritting his teeth, barely able to stand. “The suppressants didn’t work.”

“Let me help.” Harry whispers, almost without his permission.

Eggsy’s eyes focus on him sharply, burning. “What?”

“If you won’t see the nurses, Eggsy.” Harry says. “Then let me help – let me ease some of the pain, please.”

Eggsy takes a step closer, his legs weak and stumbling, but then he blinks and clenches his jaw.

“I can’t –”

Harry feels a pang in his chest, this deep-rooted pain that sends a spike through him, at Eggsy's clear unwillingness. “Eggsy, if you feel – _strange_ , or uncomfortable because I’m teacher, then please don’t worry — about _any_ of that.” He tries, suddenly and inexplicably desperate, although he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know any of these strange, wild feelings coming over him. “The nurses would only do the same thing to relieve the pressure, or —or they would find you a heat mate, a _stranger_ , and I – _I_ can help.” Harry holds his arms open feebly where he’s sat at his desk.

"Let me help." He pleads.

Eggsy simply stares, unmoving.

“Come here.” Harry says, his voice rough, and then Eggsy stumbles forward.

Harry takes Eggsy into his lap eagerly, _greedily,_ drinking him in as he runs hands up Eggsy’s still shuddering thighs, around his hips, pulling him close.

Harry breathes in one long, drawn-out inhale, pushing his face into Eggsy’s jaw.

Eggsy gasps, his hips arching up, but then his hands are bunching in Harry’s sweater, pushing his shoulders back.

“Harry –” Eggsy pants, cheeks flushed.

“It’s alright, shh.” Harry murmurs, caressing his sides. “You can turn around, if you want.” He says, because the angle is awkward, he hasn't got as much access as he would like. “Turn around, I’ve got you.”

Eggsy does as he asks easily, movements fluid as he spins before pressing his back along Harry’s front, squirming in Harry’s lap, head falling backwards onto Harry’s shoulder.

Harry seizes the opportunity with both hands, literally – running them down Eggsy’s body, feeling the hard lines and muscles of his stomach, his abdomen, resisting the urge to turn his face into Eggsy’s throat and _bite._

Eggsy moans, a soft, whimpered thing, and it makes Harry’s gut clench.

“I’ve got you, I’m here.” Harry says, low in Eggsy’s ear, and Eggsy arches up again, his spine bowing.

Harry feels drunk, almost _drugged,_ as he runs his hand lower and palms Eggsy through his trousers.

Eggsy spasms, hips bucking violently, mouth falling open in a guttural groan, so utterly _responsive_ that Harry feels his instincts swell to life inside him.

Until Eggsy is suddenly pushing at his hands, shaking his head, scrambling to stand up.

“I can’t, I can’t do it –” He babbles, and Harry is left bereft, arms cold and vacant and _empty_ as he blinks, his throat constricting.

Eggsy takes one look at him, spread out on the chair, flushed and panting, and something like pain flashes over his face then, before he’s talking.

“I know – I know you think you’re only helping, but I – _fuck.”_ Eggsy covers his face with both hands, balled into fists, and presses them to his eyes.

“Fuck, Harry, this is _because_ of you.”

Harry freezes.

He can only stare, stunned.

Eggsy leans against one of the desks, hiding his face.

“It’s because of you, okay, and you’re – you’re _married.”_ Eggsy rasps, a broken, choked sound, and then he's babbling.

“You’re married, and I’ve tried, right, I’ve done everything I can think of to stop it, I’ve been the most annoying _pain in the ass_ possible. I’ve tried to transfer _three separate times_ , tried to piss you off every day so you might even transfer me _yourself_ , but you just – you just kept getting _better_ –”

Harry stands, abrupt, and steps closer to Eggsy.

“And I – I told myself it was just some crush, everyone gets them, but that’s just the biggest load of bullshit ever because you’re all I think about, and every day I say ‘I’m not gonna hope for anything more’ because you have a _wife,_ Harry, and fuck she’s – she’s _lovely,_ I can’t even fucking hate her because she’s so good for you, and I can’t ever compete –”

Harry reaches out with gentle fingers, taking his wrist, but Eggsy shoves him away.

“And now this!” He shouts, eyes wild, fevered. “Now you’re – you’re helping me through this heat you brought on, thinking you’re just being nice, being helpful, like _fuck!”_ Eggsy shouts. “I can’t do it anymore!”

Harry takes both of Eggsy’s wrists and pulls them behind Eggsy’s back, pressing Eggsy to him.

There are a lot of things Eggsy has said that Harry needs to think about, but first, he murmurs, very low, “you say I brought on this heat?” He asks, staring down into Eggsy’s eyes.

“How?”

Eggsy’s eyes are wide, glassy. Harry can tell he’s affected by the proximity, and a rush of pure pleasure sweeps him.

“You – when you growled.” Eggsy admits, swallowing hard and glancing away. “After you gave me into trouble. It started that night, and I knew – it was because of you. But it was only some stupid, mini heat, so I just avoided you. Then in the hospital, the suppressants were working, everything was fine, so they let me go. When I turned eighteen, I stayed in the whole day.”

Eggsy grits his teeth, staring down at his knees. “I didn’t do anything for a _week_ , but nothing happened, so I figured the suppressants were still in my system.” He huffs a short, humourless laugh. “Only to come in today and – well.” His throat clicks as he swallows, mouth dry.

Harry strokes a hand up Eggsy’s arm, along his shoulder and cups his jaw, bringing his gaze up to meet Harry’s.

Eggsy’s eyes are wide, iris’ blown to complete black, and so Harry tests it – lets a soft growl rise from his chest and out his lips.

Eggsy jerks, blood rushing to his already flushed cheeks, and the scent in the air grows stronger.

“Don’t – that’s not fair.” He turns his face away, already trembling.

“You’ve done quite a bit of talking, Eggsy.” Harry begins, softly. “I think it’s my turn to speak.”

Eggsy nods, takes a breath and straightens his shoulders, as if preparing for a blow.

“You affect me more than anybody I’ve ever met.” Harry tells him, and Eggsy stiffens, bringing his eyes up slowly to look at Harry in disbelief.

“I’ve never been so affected by anyone.” Harry continues. “I’ve never been so aware of someone’s presence, someone’s _scent._ You drive me utterly wild, Eggsy Unwin.”

Eggsy is panting, chest heaving up and down at he stares at Harry.

“I didn’t see it, but Antonia did.” Harry says. “She knew you were my mate as soon as I brought you home.”

Eggsy is gaping, mouth open, eyes roving over Harry’s face. “You’re –”

Harry strokes a thumb over Eggsy’s cheekbone. “Yes, my darling boy. You’re my mate, and if you think I’m letting you spend your heat with a stranger, you’re woefully wrong.”

Eggsy shuffles closer, his legs spreading to accommodate Harry, staring up at Harry in pure, stark wonder.

“I’ve spoken with Antonia about it.” Harry carries on, moving his hand into Eggsy’s soft hair, burying his fingers in the thickness and tipping Eggsy’s face upwards. “We both know we’ve not been happy with one another for a long time. We married very young, Eggsy, and we never imagined we were anything but betas.” Harry smiles. “Of course, that is until I met you.”

Eggsy’s hand come around to his back, pulling him in, but then they’re running underneath his jumper to his shirt below, clenching almost – _possessively_.

“Yeah?” Eggsy asks, breathless.

“You bring out a side to me I’ve never known.” Harry murmurs, leaning in closer, and brushes his nose against Eggsy’s. “I’m not sure what to do with you.”

“I’m – fucking _dripping_ , Harry.” Eggsy laughs, this time a bright, exhaled rush, his eyes exuberant. “I can think of a few things.”

Harry shudders at those words, his pulse spiking in his veins. “What would you like?” He murmurs.

“Anything.” Eggsy pulls him in tighter, desperation seeping into his voice. “Literally anything, I’m – everywhere, Harry –”

“Shh.” Harry runs a hand through his hair, bringing it down to his cheek. “What do you mean, everywhere?”

Eggsy’s face is hot, and he turns away. “I’m – I’m _wet_ , Harry.” He grits out. "Everywhere."

Harry blinks, rigid.

“Like – it’s sticking to my _thighs_ , it’s that bad.” Eggsy says, still trying to press closer, trying to wrap his legs around Harry. “I swear to God, I’m ready to start rubbing myself on this desk.”

Harry’s throat has closed over, but he still manages to choke out, “not – _here_ , Eggsy, not in school, I couldn’t help with that—”

Eggsy presses his face into Harry’s chest, a whine muffled into Harry’s sweater. “I know, I know, I’m just so – I feel as if I need it, it _hurts_ –”

Harry strokes back Eggsy’s head with a trembling hand, soothing him. “I’m here, I’m right here.” He murmurs again. “I’ll ease some of the pain and then we can leave, alright?” He says. “I couldn’t take you outside like this anyway.”

Eggsy looks up and then he’s nodding, an excitement sparking in his eyes brighter than Harry has never seen. “Okay, yeah.” He says, and then he’s standing up. “Whereabouts? The desk?” He huffs, grinning. “So many fantasies about this desk, I can’t even tell you, a new one every day –”

“Was that what you were doing?” Harry asks, voice going low. “Imagining me taking you on the desk? When you were touching yourself?”

Eggsy nods, cheeks glowing, eyes glazing over. “Yeah, I couldn’t – I couldn’t help it.” He confesses.

Harry walks over to the desk, leaning against it, eyes intent on Eggsy.

Eggsy’s breaths are coming quicker, watching Harry.

“What would you like?” Harry asks again, his voice a low rasp. “I can stroke you here, or on the chair, or if you would prefer it, I suck you? To be perfectly honest, Eggsy, I’m quite impatient to taste you.”

Eggsy clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut, trembling. He stands there, breathing for a moment, before he opens them.

“Jesus _Christ,_ Harry.” Eggsy curses violently. “What the fuck was that? _Dirty talk?_ Warn a guy.”

“It’s just the truth.” Harry states simply. “I’ve spent nights dreaming about it, imagining it, and even now, I can almost taste your scent. I won’t be satisfied until I’ve tasted at least some part of you.”

Eggsy reaches down quickly and squeezes himself, taking a steadying breath as he screws his eyes shut. _“Harry.”_ He chokes, but Harry steps forward, takes that hand and presses it to his side.

“I’m the one that touches you, Eggsy.” Harry tells him, a quiet command, and Eggsy shudders all over.

“I’m gonna come.” Eggsy pants, very quickly. “I’m actually gonna – if you keep talking.”

Harry pulls Eggsy to him and spins him toward the desk until Eggsy is pressed to it, almost bent over.

 _“Fuck yes –”_ Eggsy gasps, until Harry is reaching a hand down, underneath the waistband of his slacks, popping open the button and sliding inside.

“AH!” Eggsy cries out as Harry grips him, swiping a thumb over the head of his cock and caressing his length.

Harry leans in close and gently nips at Eggsy’s ear, mouthing softly at the nape of his neck and running teeth and tongue down the exposed skin of his throat, skimming his lips over –

Eggsy is shaking apart under his hands, hands scrambling for purchase. “Harry, Ha – _ah_ –”

Harry suddenly knows Eggsy is close, veering wildly over the edge, and so he tightens his hand at the base of Eggsy’s cock.

“Ah – _fuck_ ,” Eggsy gasps, fingers digging into Harry’s arm, nails biting into the flesh. “Fuck, I was so _close_ –” he whines mournfully, squirming in Harry’s hold as Harry feels him throb, desperate.

“Not yet.” Harry says darkly. “I want to taste.”

Eggsy convulses at that, sucking in a sharp breath, but then Harry is sinking to his knees, pressing his face into Eggsy’s hip and inhaling.

“Are you – what –” Eggsy begins, confused, but Harry just turns him around, pulls down Eggsy’s trousers and boxers in one swift move, takes Eggsy’s backside in both hands and squeezes the round, plumb flesh.

The scent that hits is like no other.

Eggsy’s scent is concentrated here, coating the back of Harry’s throat, his tongue. The skin is entirely damp with his slick, wetting his boxers until the material is damp and dripping down his thighs.

Eggsy gasps, curving his spine into the touch, but Harry just caresses the bare skin of Eggsy’s arse, an arse he’s not stopped thinking about, that he’s _dreamt_ about, fantasised about, and parts the cheeks.

A wet, puckered hole is shining with Eggsy’s slick, pink and perfect, and Harry has to – he _has to_ –

He’s shoving his face in-between Eggsy’s cheeks, burying his nose deep inside and opening his mouth to tongue the smooth, sensitive skin.

“F – f – _fuck_ –” Eggsy’s voice breaks apart and splinters into a long, hoarse cry, jolting up as if he’s being electrocuted. Harry reaches around to Eggsy’s front, taking his hot, aching cock in one hand as he nibbles Eggsy’s rim with blunt, gentle teeth.

“Harry I’m gonna – I’m reallyreally _really_ –” Eggsy’s voice rises and thins out in panic, and Harry twists his hand, flicking his wrist over the leaking tip, until Eggsy’s bucking up, a strangled cry ripped from his throat.

He _feels_ rather than sees Eggsy release – the scent of it clouds around the room, a sweet, warm thing that fills Harry with pleasure as Eggsy jerks with the after-shocks of his orgasm. Eggsy shakes for a moment, voice going silent as he blanks out in ecstasy.

Harry rises to his feet unsteadily after a moment, and only then does he notice his own erection – painfully stiff and tight in his pants.

He sways, but Eggsy catches him quickly, hands cupping his face.

“That was amazing.” Eggsy pants, hair sticking to his face with sweat, eyes bright and illuminated.

Harry huffs a soft laugh, pressing Eggsy to him, and finds his hands wandering downward again, unable to resist now he’s had the first touch.

Eggsy grins up at him, but he wriggles as Harry palms his backside again, and then his features are smoothing out in bliss, his soft lips parting.

Harry glances down, eyebrows raised, to find Eggsy just as hard as before, poking out of his undone trousers, swollen and red.

“I think I’ll need to take you somewhere.” Harry tells him softly. “I’m not done with you yet, boy.”

Eggsy swallows thickly, and then his face is stretching wide, even as his eyes are totally glazed. “Bring it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm a terrible person.
> 
> Also, a note to all commenters - I just want to thank those that continue to comment, and all who do comment! It's such a sweet thing to recognise people in my inbox, especially from some of my older fics like Until Then! And those that drop a comment, whether it's their first or hundredth, really do make my day!

**Author's Note:**

> im a glutton for comments
> 
> I'm also Peasantaries on [Tumblr](https://peasantaries.tumblr.com/), [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/peasantaries), and [ Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/peasantaries/)! Come over and talk to me! I'll never bite <33
> 
> https://78.media.tumblr.com/f0880dd1c19cac160d716e9f26417768/tumblr_messaging_p8nm1eKRY11qamh2t_400.png


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